Then again, in a surveying ship you can work. In an ordinary frigate if a fellow has the talents of all the scientific men from Archimedes downwards compressed into his own peculiar skull they are all lost. Even if it were possible to study in a midshipmen's berth, you have not room in your "chat" for more than a dozen books. But in the "Rattlesnake" the whole poop is to be converted into a large chart-room with bookshelves and tables and plenty of light. There I may read, draw, or microscopise at pleasure, and as to books, I have a carte blanche from the Captain to take as many as I please, of which permission we shall avail ourself--rather--and besides all this, from the peculiar way in which I obtained this appointment, I shall have a much wider swing than assistant surgeons in general get. I can see clearly that certain branches of the natural history work will fall into my hands if I manage properly through Sir John Richardson, who has shown himself a very kind friend all throughout, and also through Captain Stanley I have been introduced to several eminent zoologists--to Owen and Gray and Forbes of King's College. From all these men much is to be learnt which becomes peculiarly my own, and can of course only be used and applied by me. From Forbes especially I have learned and shall learn much with respect to dredging operations (which bear on many of the most interesting points of zoology). In consequence of this I may very likely be entrusted with the carrying of them out, and all that is so much the more towards my opportunities. Again, I have learnt the calotype process for the express purpose of managing the calotype apparatus, for which Captain Stanley has applied to the Government. And having once for all enumerated all these meaner prospects of mere personal advancement, I must confess I do glory in the prospect of being able to give myself up to my own favourite pursuits without thereby neglecting the proper duties of life. And then perhaps by the following of my favourite motto:-- Wie das Gestirn, Ohne Hast, Ohne Rast:-- something may be done, and some of Sister Lizzie's fond imaginations turn out not altogether untrue. I perceive that I have nearly finished a dreadfully egotistical letter, but I know you like to hear of my doings, so shall not apologise. Kind regards to the Doctor and kisses to the babbies. Write me a long letter all about yourselves. Your affectionate brother, T.H. Huxley. [One more description to complete the sketch of his quarters on board the "Rattlesnake." It is from a letter to his mother, written at Plymouth, where the "Rattlesnake" put in after leaving Portsmouth. The comparison with the ordinary quarters of an assistant-surgeon, and the shifts to which a studious man might be put in his endeavour to find a quiet spot to work in, have a flavour of Mr. Midshipman Easy about them to relieve the deplorable reality of his situation:--]